


I'd give you the sun, the trees and all the stars

by Tinybookworm



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, I am, but I'm really really not over her death, i had to write something, im so very sorry, like really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 21:56:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11677860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinybookworm/pseuds/Tinybookworm
Summary: Based loosely on I'll Give you the Sun (which is an amazing book!). An exploration following both/either Margaery and/or Sansa in King's Landing as they have divided their world among themselves; the ocean, the trees, the stars, the flowers and the sun.





	I'd give you the sun, the trees and all the stars

**Author's Note:**

> LONG LIVE THE QUEENS (Margaery and her gf of the North, Sansa)

“The flowers are mine!” Margaery announced, smiling. “That goes undisputed, it is my house symbol after all!”  
Sansa and Margaery sat in King’s Landing among the gardens by the shore. Sansa sat upright, drinking her wine (of which she had gained a certain liking for) and dividing the world among them. A simple game. The Iron Throne was not talked about here, that was their rules. The Iron Throne was for men like Stannis to die over and women like Cersei to long for. Secrets and politics. Sansa had had quite enough of that.  
So they sat, she and the lady of the flowers (apparently) dividing up their own world between the two of them as if the leave were currency and the sun was the gold mine.   
Sansa rolled her eyes in good humour and shook her head softly, firmly tresses shaking along her back.  
“Yes, okay, Margaery, (Sansa let her name roll off her tongue comfortably now politeness was not needed) you can have the flowers.”  
Margaery beamed as her eyes shone, the flowers… all hers. Not really of course, but Margaery could play along. Sansa gazed upon Margaery as she seemed to have flowers grow at her feet and ivory climb along her dress. She looked beautiful, in the late afternoon sunlight surrounded by pastel and glow, Sansa realised the flowers would never be hers.

She did however, gain the trees, the ocean and the stars. Margaery, of course, claimed the sun. Sansa thought that was very fitting, given the older girl’s effect on her.

—

When Geoffrey dies (awfully, horribly, painfully), Sansa catches the look on Margaery’s face. The girl who still owns the flowers and the sun looks like death has caught her too and for the first time Sansa has ever seen, she looks frightened. But then she’s looking at Sansa from across the table as the strange man grabs her and tells her she must leave. Sansa is panicked, a look that is reciprocated on Margaery’s face. The realisation dawns on the Stark. I am leaving her here, oh Gods.

In her haste, among Cersei’s screaming and the crowds shouting “Imp”, Sansa looks pleadingly at Margaery one last time, points to the trees, and mouths desperately to the dearest person in her life;  
‘They’re yours now.’

—

Margaery sits in King’s Landing, without Sansa, for the 146th day now. It is still summer, and the lady of Highgarden twirls a white rose around in her fingers, one, twice, three times until she whispers to it, like a secret lover; “You are mine,” Margaery solemns. “She gave you to me here.”  
She sits, looking across from the Ocean, pondering over her marriage to Tommen in the forthcoming days. He seemed sweet. Naive and nothing like his brother. Margaery smiles as her heads race with thoughts on how to tackle the Queen Regent.

A raven arrives, black and cold. Margaery reads the note attached;   
“I have heard of your marriage proposals. I wish you the best and I miss you dreadfully. In my absence and thus, an absence of any real wedding gift, I give you the stars. In literature, they symbolise good luck. S.”

Margaery mourns happily. Her gut reaches and reaches for Sansa, her ginger hair, brighter than a fire and brighter than Lannister gold. Margaery realises that this leaves Sansa with nothing but the Ocean. As the brunette looks out towards the sea, she considers how she realistically has that too. Sansa is god knows where, she cannot afford to be selfish.

“As a token of appreciation for your gift, I offer you the trees back. I have no need for them anymore. Wish you were here, I adore and miss you dearly sweet thing.”

—

The High Sparrow has tortured her and moulded her for their own. This was not supposed to happen and Margaery felt herself become sick with dread and concern. When he informs her that her grandmother must repent, she almost looses composure. But she maintains it. 

Lady Olenna, her grandmother, looks as stern as ever. Thorny and cold to everyone, but upon seeing Margaery she melts. It kills her, truly, to say goodbye to her grandmother but she promises to be reunited soon. Margaery smiles, the saddest smile she has ever grown. The garden that is her mouth withers, and she has not felt this alone since Sansa left her.

And tucked in her hand, secret and sharp,  
Margaery gives her grandmother the flowers.

—

Margaery swears under her breath as she recalls how she is left only with the sun, giving Sansa back the stars a couple of months before her imprisonment ("the stars for a kiss upon my return?"). The trial (or lack thereof) is supposed to be underway.  
Again, Margaery panics. She feels panicky and anxious all of the time now. It consumes her like a drug, running through her bloodstream and whipping her heart like a horse. She tries, she really does, to just explain to th stupid, stupid man that Cersei is up to something. He is so other-lordly he does not see sense as an option.

So she fights, she grabs Loras. Her poor, broken mutilated Loras. Brother mine, she says with her eyes, fear not, for I have the sun. It’s a silly, childish thought and she knows it but they won’t let her through, they won’t let her through, they won’t let her through.

A grumble from below and Margaery is not ready for the beast to arise. Sansa owns 4/5 of the world and that just won’t do it needs to be shared, they need to be together and own the world.

And then she feels warm and the sun is with her. Icarus?

—

Sansa is home. Winterfell, and winter is still here. She looks from her balcony to see nothing but snow and ice and she thrives in the winter. Her red hair setting a little light and she can’t help but wonder if Margaery is sitting warm by a small fire, as pretty as Sansa is imagining her to be.

And then the raven comes and she reads of her death, through fire and loneliness and Cersei. She crumples the paper and throws it into the snow. Sansa has kept all of the other letters from, or concerning Margaery but she wishes this one to rot, to burn, to die.  
But it’s just a piece of paper, and it seems to melt in the snow.  
Sansa realises she has everything now; the stars, the trees, the ocean… the flowers (technically), but they will always be hers. Always, always. Sansa will search for her smile in every petal, her slender legs in every stalk and her face and warmth among the bees and the butterflies. Yes, Sansa concludes, the flowers have and always will be hers. Sansa would giver Margaery everything just to have her back. Living and smiling and breathing and-  
As for the sun? Sansa, looks for it among the clouds and sees nothing but a dark light. Sansa was never given the sun, and it had died with her.


End file.
